Prejudice
It clouds the vision of its proponents
Causing them to see things that are not.
It mixes their minds into components
To which rational people give no thought.
It dismisses those whose eyes are angled
Or whose skin is anything but white.
It is quick to see the homeless as mangled
And to surmise they cannot be half-right.
It believes its views are singularly correct
And all other positions implacably wrong.
It lumps non-conformists into a sect
And treats them as a misguided throng.
It forecloses on every outreached move
Designed to help it achieve perspective.
It knows what it knows—nothing to prove,
Unaware its thinking is grossly defective.
It owns uniquely the truth of every issue,
Taking care to avoid having facts intervene.
Its arguments are made of gossamer tissue,
And in time they are sluiced from the scene.
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